


Devil's Cut

by Lacrow



Category: SPY x FAMILY (Manga)
Genre: Heavy Subject Matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27796477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacrow/pseuds/Lacrow
Summary: When a barrel of scotch is aged, part of the yield is lost. Some evaporates and goes to the angels, while the devil takes his share through the barrel itself. It's a simple truth that cannot be circumvented; in life, just as in distilling, the devil will always be given his due.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	Devil's Cut

A knock on the door signaled his arrival.

The man of the hour, as he had so eloquently put it.

Not Loid, of course. He would never refer to Franky as such. Rather, it was the scruffy-man who gave himself such a lofty title. He exclaimed as much as Loid opened the door to welcome him in, a stupid grin on the former's face and a bottle of 12-year old scotch in his hand as he entered. Loid gave a steady sigh and small smile before closing the door and giving Franky free reign of the apartment.

"Yor's out with Yuri and Anya," he stated, even though Franky already knew where they were. "They probably won't be back till late."

"Right, so until then we kick up our feet and drink!" the informant sneered as he went towards the living room.

That was it. Their only goal for the evening; sit back and drink scotch. An activity they'd done a couple times since coming to Ostania, though it was always under the roof of their preferred bar. It was never in either of their homes since a) Loid had no idea where Franky lived and b) he would have much preferred to not see his wife get drunk. Never mind the fact he himself couldn't get drunk in the first place. Social drinking, at least in this situation, was more for the conversation. Not that alcohol affected Loid's ability to communicate, at least not physically.

Somehow, it was just easier to put up with Franky when he had a glass in his hand.

Also, he supposed, the two of them hadn't really spent a lot of time together the past few months.

This, combined with the fact that his brother-in-law was chomping at the bits to spend some time with Yor, created an opportunity for everyone. Loid deftly let it slip that the circus was in town, to which Anya immediately picked up on (as expected). She then asked her papa if he could take her, to which he explained he couldn't because he was busy with work. Yor offered to take her by herself, though Loid shot that idea down as it was dangerous for the two of them to go alone (all according to plan). Then, at the end of it all, he feigned having an epiphany.

One call to Uncle Yuri later, and the circus trip/drinking night was a-go.

Would he have liked to go with Yor and Anya? Well, technically, _no,_ at least not to a circus of all things (he was never a fan of clowns). He would have liked to spend the night with them, though, so it was a bit bittersweet seeing Yuri come to escort them away. With that said, he also felt like catching up with Franky. For once he had the night off to do it, plus it wouldn't be the last circus to come around. It was give-and-take, and that night Loid would balance (fake) family with his only, actual friend.

With Franky already unwrapping tin-foil on the couch, Loid went over to the kitchen and procured some snacks. A half-a-salami and some sliced cheese would be the hors d'oeuvres for the evening, and Loid threw the assortment on one of the nicer plates him and Yor had. He also grabbed rocks glasses with his other hand and made his way back to the living room.

"Fancy stuff," Franky whistled as everything was placed on the table. He popped open the bottle as Loid sat down.

"Hardly. Just some things Yor picked up at the market," the latter explained. He watched as Franky poured.

Franky grinned. "I see she's getting better at buying things! I remember when she couldn't tell the difference between onion and garlic."

"She still can't," Loid sighed. He reached over and took one of the full glasses. "Anya's the one who follows the list I give them."

Franky took up his own glass and the two gave a silent toast. "Well, here's to Yor Forger. She might no know how to cook, but she definitely puts up with you."

Loid rolled his eyes but partook with Franky all the same. The two put their heads back and let the burning liquid sear their throats. A stiff first drink, a far cry from the sipping one usually associates with drinking scotch. As Franky put it, a shock to the system; best to start with a bang and then slowly ride the inebriation down the rest of the night. Loid had never heard such a thing before. Clearly Franky was just making an excuse to hit the bottle quick, not that it really mattered to Loid in the first place because, again, he couldn't get drunk.

Glasses hit the table. A satisfied sigh came from Franky, and Loid raised a brow. "Long week?"

"Long year," Franky scoffed. He reached over for the bottle again. "You've been keeping me busy, that's for sure."

Loid held out a hand to stop his friend. Franky paused and looked up to find a smirk on the man's face. "I suppose I have been. Sorry."

He picked up the bottle himself and poured another round for them both. Franky gave a thankful smile and took the silent cue to take it easy...for now. The night was barely getting started. He shrugged with one shoulder and reached over for some cheese and meat. Loid leaned back once his job was done and did the same; he'd forgotten to bring plates, but he figured the two of them would manage. Franky inhaled his food while Loid snacked on his. The taste of smoky scotch lingered and mixed with fatty salami. Their stomachs rumbled for more.

"The snacks are good, but I think we're gonna need an actual meal." Franky reasoned. "I can order us something if you want."

Loid shrugged. "Sure, be my guest. Last I ate was breakfast, and that was only because I made Anya pancakes."

" _Pancakes?"_ Franky guffawed incredulously. "Westalis' greatest spy, ladies and gentleman! Reduced to nothing but a pastry chef for his sweet little girl!"

 _"It's for the mission,"_ Loid glared at him venomously, though it hardly put a dent in Franky's teasing. "I have to make sure she's happy."

"Right, of course," Franky nodded in obviously-fake understanding. Loid's eye twitched. "For the same reason you take your fake wife on dates and dote on her constantly."

"Exactly," Loid shot back. His response was typical, and it caused Franky to sputter in laughter.

"Look, I get it. They're part of your mission, and once it's over you're gone. But after all these months, you can't tell me Yor and Anya don't mean _anything_ to you?"

The question wasn't a loaded one. It was very straight forward; do you or do you not have feelings for your family? Loid knew the answer to that question, although he found it difficult to bring himself to say it out loud. Franky waited patiently, staring at the blank look on his friend's short-circuited face. After a minute passed and no response came, however, Franky took pity on the poor soul. He smiled and sighed before rising to his feet, snapping Loid out of his self-imposed trance.

"I'm calling in take-out," Franky waved over his shoulder as he walked away. "I'm starving."

Loid watched his friend go over towards the phone, before refocusing on the glass of scotch in his hand. His eyes narrowed, and he tried to make sense of the swirls in the brown liquid as if somehow the strength of his admission was hidden somewhere in it. Of course it wasn't; alcohol would afford him no such luxury, one of the few times where he regretted being a spy.

 _"Hello? I'd like to place an order,"_ Franky's voice rang out. Loid shook his head one last time before dipping into his scotch. _"Yeah, it's 128 Park Avenue..."_

* * *

The sun had just barely started to set by the time dinner had arrived. Something cheap and fast from a local diner, the food served its purpose well enough. Empty styrofoam containers were stacked neatly on the coffee table, the only remnants of a meal that was devoured in its entirety. Dinner was certainly well-received and welcomed, though it ended up coming a bit too late to soak up the alcohol. After that first drink and subsequent second one they partook in while waiting (not to mention the third they had while eating), filters were starting to loosen.

"You liar! You fucking liar!" Franky accused, pointing his finger at the man across from him. His grin couldn't have been bigger.

"It's one-hundred percent true," Loid closed his eyes and nodded. "And if you tell anyone I'll make sure you're never heard from again."

Franky wiped a tear from his eye as he started to laugh. "I deal in information, pal! I'll sit on this little nugget until the time is right, mark my words!"

Twilight was a master of disguise. Any spy and secret organization worth their weight in salt knew that, though it was a less widely known that his repertoire also included disguises of the opposite sex. Franky of course knew this already, seeing as how he'd previously used such skills to try and help the idiot win a date, but that didn't make it any less entertaining for him to hear about one of his more recent missions; in which he had to go undercover dressed as a mob boss' girlfriend in order to procure evidence of financial dealings and various other things.

"Was he a good kisser!?" Franky cackled, holding his side.

"Wouldn't know it," Loid answered calmly. "He was dead before I got to find out."

A silent shot to the head behind closed doors. A typical end to a typical mission, save of course for the fact that Loid was half-naked through out most of it. It was certainly an uncomfortable situation to be in, though the look on the mob boss' face right before he pulled the trigger, when he realized his so-called girlfriend was a man, _was_ priceless. It almost made up for the fact that he had to raid the man's closet for some actual clothes before jumping out the window. That, and Loid had to explain why he had a necklace around his neck when he got home.

"Thank god Yor's a simple soul," Loid shook his head as he remembered how _that_ conversation went down. He ended up playing it off as a present for her.

Franky continued laughing. Loid simply sipped his scotch and let the scruffy-man get it out of his system. "Why are you telling me all of this!?"

Loid shrugged. A tiny smirk tugged at his lips. "Suppose I've kept you out of the loop for a while. We haven't talked much lately."

Aside from work, of course. They still saw each other on a regular basis. Still exchanged pleasantries and passing inquiries before going about their day; one off to complete another mission, and the other to deal in information. A routine they'd first fallen into upon the start of Operation Strix, though it had grown more monotonous as the long mission dragged on. Weeks turned into months, months into almost a year. The last time Loid had seen Franky outside of work was when he'd last asked him to watch Anya. That was almost three weeks ago.

"Besides," Loid continued. He leaned back and took a drink. "It's not like I can share this stuff with anyone else, save for my handler."

"Yeah, she seems tight-laced," Franky agreed. Some residual snickers continued as he mimicked Loid. "What about Nightfall?"

Loid scoffed. "I'm thoroughly convinced she's out to usurp my position, or something ridiculous along those lines."

"Maybe she likes you." Franky sneered into his scotch as Loid scoffed even louder. "Just like every other woman in your life?"

"Don't be ridiculous. She's looking to make a name for herself, nothing more. Besides, not _every_ woman likes me. Yor doesn't hold any feelings for me."

Franky shook his head. "Please don't ruin my buzz by making me have to explain how dumb you sound right now."

The subject was dropped. Franky killed his drink, as did Loid, and the room was soon reset. With half the bottle now gone, the bathroom started to sound its siren call. Franky went to answer it promptly, leaving Loid to pick up the remnants of their dinner. Gathering all the styrofoam and empty plate of meat and cheese, he dropped everything off in the kitchen and figured he'd sort through it all later. By the time he made it back, Franky was already returning. They resumed their seats and poured another round. A new conversation started almost immediately.

"It's good scotch," Loid commented. He sniffed his glass and swirled it in his hands. "I'm surprised you sprung for top-shelf."

Franky nodded. He leaned against the back of the couch and slouched a bit. "Yeah, been expanding my palate lately."

"Oh?" Loid raised a brow. Usually, Franky was one for the cheap stuff. "Any particular reason why? A new lady?"

"Nah," Franky shrugged. "Just been dipping into the bottle more. Figured I'd start buying the good stuff."

There was a pause. Loid waited a moment. "You've been at the bar? I haven't seen you there."

Another pause. Then, slowly, Franky smiled. "Not for a while. Mostly I just drink at home."

It was practically summer. The perfect time to go to the circus, or enjoy a walk outside. The residual warmth of a balmy afternoon suffused the whole apartment and made it impossible to feel cold even with the A/C on...yet even still, a chill was suddenly felt in the Forger household. Loid said nothing as Franky closed his eyes and kept on smiling. Liquor splashed against his lips. He was extraordinarily calm. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, save of course for the sudden uneasiness that had taken root in Loid's stomach. A feeling he'd experienced many times as an agent out in the field. Something was off, and he couldn't quite place what. Instead of voicing his concern, however, the man simply carried on with the evening. Franky kept smiling. Loid, eventually, did the same.

Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps, for once, he was just experiencing what it was like to feel buzzed.

* * *

"How's she doing in school? Is she passing all her tests?"

Loid's face ended up being the only answer Franky needed. The man's sudden grimace at his daughter's grades was more than confirmation of her lacking studies, though Franky still waited for an actual response all the same. Though it didn't affect him, Loid still reached over and poured himself another glass. The bottle was placed back on the table, one-fourth of the way full.

"In my ten years of being a spy...Anya is, without a doubt, the greatest challenge I've ever had to overcome," Loid bemoaned.

"Sounds about right," Franky smirked. It grew along with Loid's dismay. "She's a little girl. No one cares about grades at that age, anyway."

Loid snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, I've found that out firsthand. It boggles my mind; some days she's a genius, and other days...not so much."

"Well, maybe she just as her moments?" Franky shrugged. "Besides, she's probably too busy living it up with a mama and papa who actually take care of her."

A frustrated sigh escaped Loid, and both he and Franky got quiet for a moment. They both knew the implication of what the latter was getting at; Anya was attached to her family. That was to be expected; as Franky had pointed out, she was just a little girl. It didn't help that she came from several broken homes before being adopted by Loid, either. Of course she would fall in love with him and Yor, and of course she'd focus on that instead of her studies. Even despite all the flack he gave her for it, Loid couldn't fault her. She was happy. Maybe even for a part of him, that was enough.

The part that mattered though, Twilight, needed her to be diligent. Work hard in school. Become an imperial scholar, and afford him a chance to take out Donovan Desmond. Not that he had much faith in such a plan to begin with, nor was he even focused on that as his main strategy. Still, a good spy had many ways to approach the same mission, and Anya being an imperial scholar was one such avenue he wished to keep open...though that prospect seemed like a fool's dream and this point. Really, he was just thankful she hadn't flunked out already.

The clanging of glass suddenly shook Loid from his thoughts. He looked up and found Franky pouring again. "How's the wife?"

"Good." The response came automatically. Then, Loid put a bit more effort into it. "Still chipper as always. Makes me wonder why she's so happy all the time."

"It's a mystery," Franky replied flatly. As he drank, he peeked at Loid from the corner of his eye and found an equally flat stare waiting for him. "Oh come off it. You know why."

Franky wouldn't even entertain the notion of a conversation. He simply focused on his glass as Loid stared down at his. Another sigh escaped the spy, and he shook his head. He'd been over this before; Yor most certainly was not interested in a relationship with him. A high-kick to the chin had taught him that painfully clear, though...that incident had taken place months ago. Maybe in such time, she'd gotten softer to the notion. She was only in this marriage for the cover it provided her, not out of love, though not everything had to revolve around love.

Maybe she was interested in other things? The thought crept into Loid's head for a brief second, though it was quickly dashed away. Even as her husband, he couldn't bring himself to picture her in that light. Not necessarily because it was a...wholly unwelcome image, but because he just couldn't see Yor like that. Not with that mindset. She was a kind and sweet woman. Dedicated to her family (despite it being fake), and always looking to help others. She was his polar opposite; altruistic, earnest, and gentle. Yor was, without a doubt, the ideal wife. Not just for his mission, but...in general.

"You ever think about just ending all this?"

The question failed to register immediately in Loid's ears. He carried on for a moment as usual before eventually looking up from his drink. Franky was focused on what was once his scotch, now reduced to nothing more than an empty glass. The room was suddenly dead silent, with not even the cars on the street below seeming to make a sound. That same out-of-place chill from before crept over them both, and Loid could feel it clear all the way down to his bone. Uneasiness returned to his stomach. He paused before asking for clarification.

"You mean retiring?" Loid said with uncertainty.

Franky looked over at him and smiled. "Yeah."

"Never," Loid answered back briskly. "You?"

Franky laughed a bit. "Maybe a little."

Loid didn't continue. He wanted Franky to say something else, though all the scruffy-man did was reach over to pour himself another round. Loid stared coldly at the bottle in Franky's hand as the last bit of scotch emptied into his glass. He made sure to tilt the bottle all the way to make sure every last drop came out, leaving nothing but an empty reminder of what started off as a simple night between friends. Now, as Franky leaned back against the chair and swirled the liquid in his hand, Loid didn't know what to make of things.

"Not like I could, anyway," Franky spoke into his scotch. "People like us don't get to retire. We either die on the job, or get disposed of once we're used up."

Loid frowned. "That's not true. Things aren't like how they used to be. Nowadays we get pensions. Healthcare. Options."

"Even if that were true, it's not like I got anything to go home to," Franky smirked. "I don't have a family. Not like you."

"A fake family that I'm going to leave someday," Loid stated slow and clear for Franky to hear. "Nothing about this place is real."

"But you have the option," Franky shot right back. "If you wanted to, they'd be here for you. A built-in wife and daughter who love you. _Isn't that great?_ "

It wasn't a malicious comment. Franky didn't say it in a snarky way, or even a jealous one; him saying it sounded wholly genuine. Isn't that great? Isn't it great that there were people who depended on him? That, for once, didn't see him as anything more than Loid Forger. Father. Husband. A pillar of support. Someone to be needed. Called upon at a moment's notice to do things like walk Anya to the bus stop, or help Yor bring in the groceries? Take Bond out for a walk. Engage other parents in pleasant conversation as the family went out for a Sunday stroll together as usual.

Isn't it great having people that care he exists?

That's what he was really getting at. Such a conclusion didn't come from Twilight, master spy, but rather from a friend who suddenly realized a few things. One was that Franky wasn't nearly as drunk as he should have been; in the past, he'd gotten trashed off a few glasses of champagne and gotten Loid into all sorts of trouble. Another was that, despite seeing each other on a frequent basis, Loid couldn't remember the last time he'd asked Franky how he was doing. What he was up to. How life was treating him. If he'd kept up with anyone else lately.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd acted like an actual friend.

Loid realized this all too little too late. Half a bottle of scotch in and Franky was buzzed. Not drunk, but buzzed. Despite having babysat Anya weeks ago, he didn't know the first thing about how she was doing. He didn't know how Yor was either, because Loid never gave him more than the bare minimum. Hey, how are you. I need this information. Thank you, bye. The same routine, day after day. Between constant missions and his own preoccupation with Operation Strix, he hadn't seen it before. The same glaze that had taken hold of many of his comrades in the past. The same fate that had befallen many who had been lucky enough to make it through a cold war unscathed by bullets, but unfortunate enough to find their main source of comfort at the bottom of a bottle.

"Y'know, it's funny," Franky mused. "I don't even call you Twilight anymore. I just always think of you as Loid."

Loid cleared his throat and leaned forward. Franky watched him. "...We're not talking about retiring...are we, Franky?"

A long pause. Loid's face twisted as Franky's broke into a smile. "Nothing ever gets passed you, does it? It's incredibly irritating."

Alcohol disappeared in a long gulp. As quickly as it was poured, it was put away. A clang rang out as Franky's glass was returned to the coffee table. He cleared his throat and quickly got up to his feet. Still there was a smile on his face, even as he started to walk away. No such expression broke across Loid's; a frown never left him as he watched Franky head towards the bathroom.

"I'm just kidding, don't take it personally," Franky teased distantly. "Besides, that face doesn't suit you. What would all the ladies think?"

No response. There was nothing Loid could think of to say that would be appropriate given the situation. All he could do was watch Franky disappear around the corner and listen as the door closed behind him. A faucet turned on, and that point Loid stopped listening. He swiveled back around in his chair and looked down at the drink in his hands. A still-full glass of scotch taunted him just as Franky had, and just like him he had no idea how to respond to it. Loid just put his drink on the table and leaned forward; crossed his hands, stared at the floor, and waited for Franky to return.

* * *

The clock ticked on the wall above the kitchen window, signaling to Loid that it was late.

He dared not look away to check that actual time. It mimicked a grandfather clock in that tiny dings would ring every hour on the hour. Nine in a row signaled it was nine o' clock, meaning that Yor and Anya were likely on their way home from the circus. Loid didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, since he wasn't quite sure what their arrival would mean for this strange, alternate world he currently found himself in. A world where he didn't have the faintest idea of what to do or say. A world where, currently, he and Franky sat across from one another in complete silence.

It had been that way since Franky came back from the bathroom. How long ago that was exactly, Loid couldn't say. Again, he was too focused on him to pay attention fully. To him, it was as if his friend's fate was entirely dependent on him keeping sight of him. In the back of Loid's head, he had a nagging fear that if he turned away for even a moment...something might happen. He didn't know what that something was, and he sure as hell didn't want to find out. So he sat there. He stared. He waited. Franky, meanwhile, stared out in front of him.

The observation Loid had made, about Franky being slightly drunk, was still valid. The haze over his eyes was thin, though it seemed to dull him a bit more than it had earlier. He was content to just sit there in silence and focus on the front door. It was as if he were contemplating walking out, or maybe part of him just really wanted to see Yor and Anya walk through it. Maybe that was all he really wanted in the end; for someone to come in, see him, and give him a moment of their time. Give him an excuse to talk, smile, before being sent off on his way.

An excuse to be happy. "Do you remember when we first met?"

The question fell off Loid's tongue unexpectedly. He wanted to ask it; it's just that he had no intention of saying it out loud. It surprised him, but he rolled with it. Loid looked at his friend expectantly, and the latter was able to pry himself away from the door to oblige him. Franky blinked for a moment, caught off-guard by the question, though eventually he shook his head.

"No," Franky seemed to think hard for a moment. "Not really."

"Me neither," Loid smiled. Franky did too, thankfully. "It was so long ago all the details are hazy."

"They say the first thing to go are your memories," Franky teased faintly. "We're getting old, Loid. We can't remember things anymore."

Loid scoffed and waved a hand in front of him. Franky managed to grin at the display. "We're not even thirty yet. Save the talk for when we're turning gray."

For a moment, the room returned to its natural heat. Though dark outside, the night sweltered; droplets formed on the outside of the windows due to condensation from the A/C, and a faint film veiled them. The out-of-place chill from before wasn't felt, at least not for a little while. Loid and Franky sat there and smiled. The subject of their conversation ended there, however. Though a smooth talker, Loid couldn't think of anything to follow up with. He hoped Franky would take the lead, but that didn't end up happening. At least...not in the way Loid wanted.

"Hey...are we friends?"

The question came after a long pause. Loid's eyes widened. He looked up, and found Franky still smiling at him. Or, not necessarily him...but rather something far behind him. A place on the dining room wall, perhaps, or maybe even further than that. Some far off place or thing that didn't seem real to Loid at the time. Franky wasn't focused on him, or anything else, really. He was merely there.

Loid said nothing, not at first. For once in his career as a spy, he was stunned. He felt unable to process the question Franky had just asked him. The simple fact that he asked the question in the first place meant things were far worse than Loid first thought. He grappled with the feeling of just how badly he'd miscalculated things, and such a struggle must have been clear on his face, too; eventually Franky refocused and, as soon as he noticed Loid's expression, his own face contorted into something resembling regret.

"You don't have to answer that!" Franky grinned tremulously. He reached behind him and scratched the back of his head.

"That was a dumb question," he continued. "We're grown ass men, not school kids! Friends are for children, and this is the real world-"

"-Franky, we're friends." Loid cut him off before he could say more. Franky froze and stared into the blue eyes that seemed to see right through him.

He looked away quickly. He couldn't bare to continue staring, and instead reached for the bottle once more. Only instead of pouring again, he stopped dead in his tracks; the liquid inside was no more, leaving him high and dry to face the uncomfortable situation on his own. Realization seemed to come into his foggy expression, and he blinked before slowly sitting back into his chair. Loid watched, silent, as Franky folded his hands and just stared down at feet. Aside from the look of genuine surprise that swept across his face, Franky remained emotionless.

More silence. Loid waited patiently for Franky to say something, anything, but when he didn't he spoke up instead. "You're my only friend, really."

"How 'bout that?" Franky replied automatically. There was no grin this time. "Guess we're just two peas in a pod, then."

"I couldn't do half my missions without you," Loid frowned. "You know that, right? Your gadgets and intel are second-to-none. You're a pro."

"Oh, I know it." Feigned cockiness. Something wholly Franky, yet it felt foreign on his tongue. "And you're Twilight, master spy. If I weren't here, you'd find a way."

Loid shook his head. He steeled himself. "Clearly I'm no master anything. Otherwise I would have been able to see that things had gotten out of hand."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Franky muttered. "Besides...you've got a family. They don't need to be caught up in things that don't concern them-"

"-Anya loves you," Loid cut him off. Immediately, Franky's eyes widened. "Yor enjoys your company. They don't know about us or the spy game. To them, you're just Scruffy."

"...That's real rich coming from you, y'know that?" The response came singed with an insulted scoff. "Didn't you just get through telling me none of this is real?"

This time it was Loid who paused. He hesitated as Franky bore into him, though soon relented with a downward glance. "All but the girls. They're real...and so are their feelings."

Another scoff, only there was not bite behind it this time. Franky looked away, and Loid focused elsewhere. Down into his still-full glass, of which he hadn't taken so much of a sip of since Franky's return. Faces formed in the liquid, and he thought about his wife and daughter; the hypocrisy with which he viewed their very existence. On the one hand, they meant nothing to him. They were simply pieces of a mission that, once finished, would be discarded of without a second thought. He would then move on and forget all about them, and them him...

...And yet on the other hand he couldn't envision life without them. His wife. His daughter. His family, patchwork though it was. Over the past year he'd been exposed to thoughts and emotions never before experienced as a spy, things that he didn't necessarily want to live without. Empathy for other people. Content for the little things. Altruism for the sake of his daughter. Fondness for the woman who pretended to be his wife. Everything he'd faked for the sake of Operation Strix...it wasn't just part of Loid Forger anymore. It was also part of Twilight.

Those were his demons. Franky, meanwhile, struggled with his own. For all his experience in navigating social circles, Loid couldn't place the look on his friend's face when he finally turned back around to face him. Loid didn't even try to, really. With all the psychoanalysis he pretended to do at his cover job of being a psychiatrist though, he could at least identify the emotions behind it. Guilt. Regret. Embarrassment. Things Franky shouldn't have been feeling, and yet there they were plain as day to see. A man at his wit's end. It killed Loid.

"I might not be a _real_ doctor, but-"

"-You know a guy?" Franky cut him off briskly.

Loid paused. Then, slowly, nodded his head. "Yes, I do."

Franky snorted. "Look at you, referring me like I'm some sort of patient!"

That hard-to-place expression was quickly replaced with a scathing look aimed directly at Loid. The latter stared back into it with his usual calm demeanor, though he had a sinking suspicion that Franky could tell there was more going on inside him than he was letting on. The king of cool, and yet Loid's thoughts were a mess. He gazed into the cloudy eyes of his friend and felt his stomach twist in on itself. There wasn't anything recognizable left of the Franky that he knew. All that remained was this person wearing his skin. A husk of his usual self.

Franky opened his mouth. He closed it. Opened again. Paused as the words started to form. Then, he frowned. "Fine, just...do whatever you want."

Loid rose immediately. He would never admit to using the opportunity to escape from an uncomfortable situation, though that was exactly what he was doing, albeit briefly. Just enough time to gather himself while searching for a coworker's business card. That's all he needed was a moment, a few seconds where he could calm the worry that was seeping through his usual mask. One thing remained true no matter the circumstance; Franky was one of the few people who could make him break character. Easily, like it came second nature to him.

Digging through the junk drawer in the kitchen, Loid found what he was looking for. He returned to the living room at a steady pace, careful not to seem panicked though his heart was beating far faster than usual. He held the card out for Franky to take, and the latter gave it a biting glance before taking it slowly from his hosts' hands. Loid remained standing, and made sure Franky gave it a once-over before he slipped it into his pocket. From now on, making sure Franky did what he needed to would be his burden to bear. His responsibility.

Franky dared not look at Loid directly. Instead, he feigned glancing at the clock. "It's getting late. I should head out."

"That won't be necessary," Loid replied stiffly. Franky tilted his head. "You can stay here for the night. You can have my bed."

Silence. Then, slowly, the hint of a smirk pulled at the scruffy-man's lips. "...And give you and Yor an excuse to bunk together? I think not."

"Franky, I'm being serious." Loid frowned, even more so when Franky suddenly rose to his feet. "It's best not to be alone right now. For both our sakes-"

Loid was cut off by the simplest of gestures, a winding grin that only the Franky he knew could muster. It caught him completely off-guard; the face that gazed up at him was one he knew by heart, and yet Loid knew it was just a facade. It looked the same as always, but it wasn't Franky. Not really. Despite his best efforts to break through and try to figure out who this person was wearing his friend's face, Loid was left speechless. All he could do was stand there and accept Franky's pat-on-the-back as he made his way for the door.

"I promise I'll give this co-worker of yours a call, so don't worry." The reassurance seemed distant. A typical spy move.

"I'm serious, Franky!" Loid spun around as Franky donned his coat. His face contorted. "I'll ask him the next time I see him! I'll make sure!"

"You do that, Loid," Franky grinned again. The gesture ruined his friend. "I've still got a boatload of work to do for you. I can't afford to crack under pressure."

It wasn't fair how quickly Franky turned the knob and made his way out. It wasn't fair to him that he should leave without being seen off by his only friend, and it wasn't fair to Loid that he be denied the chance to do so. Most of all, it wasn't fair to either of them that, with one swing of the door, they were both thrust into loneliness once more. All of a sudden it was dead quiet in the Forger household, and Loid was left standing there right where Franky had left him. Not even the sounds of Franky's footsteps could be heard as he unceremoniously made his way down the hall.

There were so many things running through Loid's mind, he couldn't pick just one to focus on. For once, he was overwhelmed. He looked at the clock again, yet didn't even bother to check the time. He was on auto-pilot, and every move he made seemed not of his own accord. Something baser was driving him as he sat back down in his chair. Loid took a deep breath and reached for his scotch. He raised it to his lips, and it was at that moment he froze. Realization hit him. His eyes twisted, and he just as quickly put the glass back on the coffee table.

He stared at it. The glass, first, then the empty bottle of scotch next to it.

That's all he did for a time was stare at it. The longer he looked, the tighter his throat got. There was a stinging in his eyes that he hadn't felt in a very long time, and it burned more with each passing second. Staring at that bottle was like staring at an enemy. Someone who had just pulled the trigger of a gun and had found their mark, though it wasn't Loid they were aiming at. Franky's face popped into his head, and Loid exhaled. He rubbed his face. He tried to calm himself. Loid reached over and knocked the bottle over, as if that would somehow give him some sort of relief. It did, to a point. He no longer had to look at the label, as if it were somehow mocking him over his inability to help his friend. The emptiness, however, remained.

Empty like how he felt. Like how Franky felt. The only difference between them was as Franky himself had pointed out; Loid wasn't truly alone. That fact brought him both relief and terrible guilt, that he should feel the warmth of others when it was his friend who needed it far more than him. Loid hung his head low at the realization. That, and the insulting irony that he could freely partake in the thing that had taken his friend away without repercussion. Even in suffering, Loid was far more blessed than Franky ever was

Loid's final act of defiance was to push his glass away from him and sit there in self-imposed isolation.

The only thing he knew for certain was that, fake or not, he wanted to see his wife and daughter.

He crossed his fingers, stared at the floor, and waited to hear the front door open once more.


End file.
